


No Such Thing as Coincidence

by thesanctumautistic



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Awkward Romance, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-02-26 02:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18714463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesanctumautistic/pseuds/thesanctumautistic
Summary: Cadence Stark is on the other side of the country when Thanos snaps his fingers and wipes out half of life on Earth. The remaining Avengers call her in for help. The events of Endgame on a condensed timeline, some whirlwind romance because life is short, and a different way to outsmart the mad titan. Theoretical and/or fictional science may apply. (I'm a science nerd, I have every intention of using science to my advantage, but I'm no genius.) Also, happy endings! Written from Cady's perspective.





	1. Expedition

In January of 2018, I broke up with my best friend. 

 

I met her in college at Adelphi, and long story extremely short, things got progressively weirder and more dangerous between us over the course of a decade. It's not that we were fighting (we were) but she was dealing with a lot of problems and -- God bless her, I tried to help her, it just kept backfiring. I could explain it to you but you'd just come to the conclusion that she was psychotic and probably borderline. You may not be wrong, even. I'm just going to tell you straight up that there were demonic entities involved and leave it at that. I either had to involve the Catholic Archdiocese of New York or leave because she was basically stalking me. She kept telling me if I called the diocesan exorcist or took her to the hospital she would die. I don't know how, I don't want to know what was going on there, but I... I had to go. Confronting her was not the way to handle this. I needed to drop off the face of the earth.

 

So I decided to get out of Dodge for a while. I talked to my dad, I told Pepper briefly what was up, I packed a couple bags of clothes and books and a phone charger, loaded it all into my old 2006 4Runner (her name is Betsy), and I drove west. Once I got on I-90, I just kept driving. I'd always wanted to see Seattle, so why not move there? No one would find me there. It would be a great way to start over. Maybe I'd come back to New York, maybe I'd find something or someone amazing out in the Pacific Northwest worth staying for. Maybe I'd find myself in the process, figure out what I'm supposed to do with my life. 

 

The views in Washington were breathtaking. I spent a lot of time by myself on the balcony of my apartment just staring at the mountains and talking to God or reading and working at a Starbucks. My first job at 18 was teaching piano lessons, then I worked in the daycare at Stark Industries until Pepper had me moved up to accounting last spring. I'd never worked retail before. It was stressful, it was fun, I learned a lot. I'm horrible at making change in my head. I worked on my social skills a little. I walked around Seattle a lot. I tried sushi; I don't like it. 

 

Some days I got up with a sense of existential dread over my life choices. The daughter of Tony Stark, an Adelphi grad with a degree in math and science that took me six years to finish because I changed my major at the last minute, working second shift at a Starbucks in downtown Seattle. I didn't even make enough to make rent my first month, I lived off my savings. I don't talk money, but this was not a very sustainable venture. I eventually talked Pepper into letting me telecommute during the evenings to help make ends meet. I ate, I slept, I worked... and I was alone. Totally fine with it, too. 

 

My phone rang exactly twice in the first month I was there. The first time was two weeks after I'd moved in, and it was Natasha asking me what the _hell_ I was doing in Washington state. Two hours later, after I explained my life story, I went to take a bath, and an hour after that the phone rang again. This time it was Clint Barton, who was basically inviting me to come crash with his family for a while until things cooled down at home. Natasha will talk real with me; Clint will talk straight with me. He told me up front that Natasha did not like for a minute that I was out on the other side of the country completely alone.

 

Perhaps I should also explain that this would be the second time -- ever -- that I had driven out of the state of New York, and the first time ever I drove out of state solo. It's not that they don't trust my navigation skills (why should they trust them, I have a terrible sense of direction and get lost in Manhattan frequently), or that I make questionable life choices (let's not go there)... I think they thought something else was going on that I wasn't telling anyone. I spilled to Clint and Natasha, and I know at least Natasha talked to my dad about it, but he never called me, except on Saturday nights. He just texted me every day to make sure I got up in time for work. But I hope they knew and believed that I was being honest with them, that I just needed to get away for a while. It worked out well for the situation I was in, and I was taking advantage of the opportunity to try something new.

 

I was kind of getting into a groove with this independent living thing after a month or two. I'd found a favorite grocery store, the least sketchy gas station to stop at, a good fro yo place, a church near my apartment. I was looking at options for going back to school part time, maybe for nursing. I'd started doing some reading for nursing classes and some others I hadn't taken in college the first time. Microbiology and anatomy and physiology, medical terminology. Natasha called me a couple times to see how I was doing.

 

One Thursday morning, I was getting ready for work and I heard sirens outside. This wasn't out of the ordinary. But then there were more. I didn't have a TV in my apartment, I don't typically watch TV. Then Facebook started blowing up about people vanishing. More sirens outside. People in my apartment building started screaming and I heard people running down the hall. Pepper texted me: "Are you OK? Yes or no" is all she said.

 

"Yes," I texted back.

 

My phone rang. I'd stuck my head outside my apartment door by now. The fire alarm had been pulled and lights were flashing, sirens blaring in the hall. I shut the door behind me and locked it. "Cady, I don't know what the hell is happening."

 

"What do you mean? People are going crazy here, they're running outside and crying, I hear sirens all over the place -- "

 

"People are disappearing here. They're just... turning into dust. Oh my God -- "

 

"What is this, spontaneous combustion or something? Where is my dad?"

 

"I don't know. He -- that's a long story -- "

 

"Mo -- Pepper, tell me. Where is Tony."

 

"He's gone with someone named Doctor Strange, and he's in space."

 

"What space?"

 

"Space, Cady. Outer space. He's on a ship."

 

"What -- what are you talking about, what kind of ship?"

 

"I know it sounds crazy, it is, I begged him not to -- Oh God -- "

 

"Are you okay?"

 

"Yeah -- I think so -- Can you h-- Are y--"

 

"Pepper?"

 

Static. "Can you hea -- " _Beep beep beep_. [Call dropped.]

 

I texted with Pepper for an hour. This was happening all over the country. All over the world. People were disappearing. Animals were disappearing. Cars that were being driven had drivers just disappear. More than a few plane crashes and several civilian-landed planes made the news over the next week. 

 

I tried to call my dad, but the call never went through. Not that I really... expected it to, but... maybe Pepper had been mistaken. _How in the hell was he in space?!_  

 

My manager at work called and said we were closing for the next few days at the minimum. She had no idea who was accounted for and traffic was a mess with wrecks everywhere. I walked outside into the parking lot after a little while. The sirens were more distant now and an eerie silence was settling in. I considered walking the mile down to the church for mass, because what else could I do -- but I didn't think it was a good idea to venture anywhere. The other people I met in my building were just as stunned as I was, completely confused and most distraught because of a husband or wife or child who was missing.

 

I sat in the kitchen with my phone on the charger all day, texting Pepper, then Natasha, then Clint. I didn't eat anything until after it was dark outside.

 

Clint's entire family was gone.

 

I tried reaching Vision. No response. Same for Wanda.

 

I texted my friend from college, Skye. She and her daughter were okay. Her soon to be ex husband was gone, as was her dad. Skye works at a news station uptown and she kept me posted when she could that night.

 

I texted Rachel, my best friend from middle school. We tried to video chat but the internet wasn't having it. She was okay; she's estranged from her dad, but her boyfriend and daughter were fine. Things were bad in L.A. too.

 

I was asleep on the couch when my phone rang and scared the shit out of me. Natasha seemed to think it would be a great idea to call me in the middle of the night. I'd fallen asleep with the light on.

 

"Cady, what would it take for me to convince you to come home?" she asked.

 

"What -- what's going on? What time is it?"

 

"It's four A.M. here."

 

"Ugh, it's gotta be two here then."

 

"Did I wake you up?"

 

"I wasn't exactly sleeping on purpose, so... no, not really. What's going on?"

 

"I asked you what I need to do to get you to come home."

 

"Probably not much. Um." I sat up and rubbed my eyes. Where were my glasses? "Where's my dad?"

 

"He's... he's on another planet."

 

"He's _what_? How do you know this?"

 

"He was held captive there on a ship with someone else. Um... I'm here with someone who was with him. Someone who escaped."

 

"I'm really confused."

 

"I don't expect you to understand," a male voice said.

 

"Who was that?" I looked at my phone. "Am I on speaker?"

 

"Yes," Natasha said. "That was Dr. Stephen Strange."

 

"Was my dad okay when you last saw him?"

 

"Yes," he said. "He was."

 

"Oh, thank God. Okay." I could breathe a little better. Dad can get out of anything. If he's alive, he'll make it out.

 

"So I have a couple more details on what happened," said Natasha. "Can we FaceTime you?"

 

"Do I need to see anything? I can't find my glasses."

 

"No, we just want to see you."

 

I opened my laptop on the coffee table. I looked like such a hot mess, my hair was everywhere, mascara making dark circles under my eyes. The screen was really bright and I kept squinting at it. Natasha called; I answered it, and I saw her sitting at a table in the conference room at the compound with someone in a sort of blue and red outfit. I spotted my glasses on the floor next to my feet and leaned over to pick them up.

 

"Hey, sweetie," said Natasha, watching me sit up. "This is Dr. Strange. Stephen," she turned to him a little, "Cady, Tony's daughter."

 

"Hi," I said. 

 

"Stephen, ah, wanted to explain to you what happened today."

 

"Cady, do you know anything about the Infinity Stones?" Stephen asked.

 

I was thinking. "Give me a minute."

 

"Take your time."

 

"I can't place it. Why?"

 

"Vision had the Mind Stone."

 

"OH. Yes. Okay. The Tesseract is the...."

 

"Space Stone."

 

"Okay. Yes, weird radiation, not Cherenkov but something else, self-sustaining power source type of... thing. Um. Yeah, I think I still have some of the research he sent me on that."

 

"There are six stones. Mind, space, time, power, soul, and aether. Something, some being, has been wanting to collect all these stones, because together they are unfathomably powerful and destructive."

 

"You say 'some being' and not 'someone'."

 

"It's not a person. It's a... well, I guess you can call him an alien. His name is Thanos. His goal was to destroy half the life on earth. He needed all the Infinity Stones to do it. And..." Stephen sighed. "He got them. Earlier today."

 

"Oh my God. How did... I don't understand -- "

 

"He snapped his fingers, and half of everything disappeared."

 

"He snapped his fingers."

 

"Yes."

 

"How did that do anything? I mean, I can snap my fingers all day."

 

"Yes, but he had the stones. In a gauntlet. He snapped his fingers while he was wearing it."

 

I don't know if I looked very confused or just tired or what, but I started to Google "gauntlet" just to see what he was talking about. "I'm going to need a picture of this, I don't understand."

 

"Okay, we can do that later," said Natasha. "But the disappearances -- that was what caused it. Thanos. With the stones."

 

"So we --" My mind started going a thousand miles a minute. "Where is he?"

 

"I don't know," said Stephen.

 

"Where are the stones?"

 

"He still has them."

 

"Do we need to get them back?"

 

"Probably," said Stephen.

 

"How are we going to do that? We need to find him."

 

"Cady," Natasha broke in.

 

"I'm still trying to figure out what a gauntlet is."

 

"I know. You're really tired. I can tell."

 

"I'm sorry."

 

"No, no, it's okay, baby. Listen, we just wanted you to know what we know right now. We need you."

 

"What do you need me for?"

 

"Pepper needs you, we need your brain. We all just need you home."

 

"You said my dad was okay. Last you saw him."

 

"Yes," said Stephen.

 

"Okay." I nodded to myself and bit my lip. "That's what I need to know right now. Because if he's okay, we've got a chance against this dude."

 

"Yes. We do."

 

"Cady," said Natasha, "after a day or two when the roads are cleared up some, can you head this way? Come stay with us here at the compound while we figure things out."

 

"Okay," I said.

 

"Go get some sleep and call me when you wake up."

 

We said goodnight, I turned off my computer, and I turned off the light on the table. The darkness creeped me out, though, and I turned on the bathroom light before I went back to the couch. I don't know why I didn't go to bed, I just wanted to be somewhere where I could get to the door in a hurry if I needed to.

 

I replayed the conversation I just had in my mind. The stones. _Vision had the Mind Stone,_  Stephen had said.

 

"FRIDAY, call Natasha."

 

"Calling Natasha Romanoff."

 

"What is it, baby?" Natasha answered.

 

"Vision."

 

"Yeah?"

 

"I never heard back from him or Wanda. I texted them both hours ago."

 

"Neither of them made it, honey."

 

"Oh, my God."

 

"I know. I'm sorry, I forgot to tell you. I know you were close to them both."

 

I sighed. "It's okay. I just needed to know."

 

" _Ya lyublyu tebya, pochemuchka_."

 

_"Ya lyublyu tebya_ ," I said back.

 

 

 

My heart ached, all night long and right up to daybreak.

 


	2. A Tiny Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day after the snap. Cady's perspective.

 

I woke up around six the next morning. Sun streamed in through the window in the living room. I sat up and wondered if I was dreaming. Yesterday was Thursday, weird stuff happened, I didn't go to work because of it -- please tell me today is Thursday and this was all a dream. Dad's in outer space, Wanda and Vision and Clint's family are gone, Infinity Stones -- I dreamed all that. I had to.

 

It had to be a dream. Had to be. I haven't had a lucid dream in a long time that was that realistic.

 

I opened my computer.

 

It was Friday.

 

_Damn it!_

I checked the news. Same headlines all over. New York, Seattle, Los Angeles, Houston, London, Toronto, Hong Kong, Sydney, Paris -- disappearances. Chaos. Theories. Mass alien abduction? Mystery illness that targeted people with only a certain blood type? Some sort of cult? Cell phone radiation. The government. North Korea.

 

North Korea? I read that article out of sheer curiosity. It had originated on some tabloid site but the mainstream news outlets were picking it up, low on theories. 

 

Infinity Stones. Snapping fingers. I looked up this gauntlet that Dr. Strange had mentioned last night. I'd heard the phrase "run the gauntlet" before, wasn't that akin to running a marathon -- I can't say I had any reason to use that phrase in the recent past. 

 

I video called Natasha from my computer, not sure if she would answer. I looked even more of a mess than last night. Natasha's seen me worse. I've seen her bed head. She won't judge me.

 

When she answered, I was looking at a room full of people. Natasha, Steve Rogers, Rhodey, Bruce Banner, Dr. Strange, and Thor.

 

"Good morning, sunshine," said Natasha.

 

"You are a sight for sore eyes, Cady," said Rhodey.

 

"I'm gonna take that as a compliment," I told him. "Sorry, I didn't realize the whole gang would be here -- where are my glasses -- "

 

"On your face," Natasha deadpanned.

 

"I literally just woke up."

 

"Go make some coffee, kid."

 

"I was _really seriously hoping_  that everything was just a bad dream last night, and then I opened my computer... and it's Friday."

 

"So, I told Pepper that you were on board with coming home in a few days," Natasha said. "I didn't dream that, right?'

 

"No, I'm -- I'm good with that."

 

"Do you want to try to drive back or do you want us to come get you?"

 

"I can drive -- wait, how would you come get me? I don't follow."

 

Exasperation set in on her expression. "We have a jet, Cady."

 

"Oh, that's right."

 

"Coffee. Now."

 

"Yes ma'am." I toted my laptop with me to the kitchen. "No, I can drive it, it's not a bad drive at all. I don't know what the interstate is like right now...."

 

"That's what we're checking out. It looks like the disappearances have stopped, but there's still a lot of wrecks on the road. Look, let us just come get you."

 

"No, seriously, I can drive."

 

"Cady, I don't want you getting stuck in -- "

 

"Natasha." She stopped. "I can do this. Let me try. Okay?"

 

"Okay," she conceded.

 

"If I need help, I'll call you."

 

"Oh, I know you will," she said, crossing her arms with a sigh.

 

* * *

 

 

I packed most of my clothes and belongings and loaded them into my truck that morning. I had a short term lease on this apartment, three months with an option to extend to six, and I stopped by the landlord's office on the way back upstairs after my last load of luggage to let them know I would be heading out in the next day or two and turning in my key. No one was there. The door was open, papers strewn across the desk, the phone off the hook like someone had left in a hurry.

 

Normally the halls of my apartment building were very quiet during any given weekday, most of the occupants at work and school. Today schools and businesses were closed. Kids ran up and down the halls every once in a while. Some apartments left their doors open to stay connected to neighbors. I heard televisions and news and rarely little else. It was almost like a normal Saturday morning, except it was a Friday around nine. When the elevator door opened this time, I stepped out and heard something out of the ordinary over the normal low electrical hum of fluorescent lights in the hall.

 

A baby crying. 

 

I followed the sound, down past my apartment another five doors and on the left. This was definitely where the sound was coming from. I knocked on the door several times and hollered for anyone who might be in the apartment. I banged on the door, and the crying got louder. The baby was by itself.

 

"Five seventeen," I said to myself. "Five seventeen, five seventeen." And I took off running. I am horrible at running.

 

The elevator took forever to reach the ground floor. I went into the office again and started opening drawers of the landlord's desk. Register tape, staple remover, gum, pens, all sorts of things covered in latex, rubber bands, sticky notes -- thank heavens the bottom right drawer was unlocked and tucked in the back was the master set of keys on a giant ring. I thumbed through to 517, wiggled it off, and bolted back upstairs.

 

The apartment was a carbon copy of mine, just with different furniture and more junk. In the master bedroom was a white crib. I immediately picked up the baby girl, dressed in a pink footed onesie, crying and screaming her head off, smelling rank from not having been changed since yesterday. She'd blown out her diaper.

 

"It's okay, baby. Come on, let's get you changed. It's okay. Cady's got you. Gonna be alright, sweet pea."

 

Once I had her undressed, cleaned up, bottom covered in diaper rash cream, and diapered up again, I took her straight to the kitchen. She was still screaming, but not quite so bad. The outfit I took off of her was 0-3 months and she had room to grow; she might have been 2 months old, maybe three months and premature. I cradled her in my arms easily while I shook up a bottle of formula mixed with warm water and watched as she practically gulped it down. "See, that's better. Food always makes things better, doesn't it." She had about three ounces, I burped her, she spit up on me, it was a great time.

 

I mean, what could I do? Ignore her cries? No. Not an option. I went back into the bedroom in search of this little angel's name. Was it on her diaper bag, maybe inside somewhere? A birth certificate? She was so tiny! I found sonogram pictures in the nightstand and as I found baby clothes, I just started to shove them in the diaper bag. Diapers, wipes, diaper rash cream, all of it. I found her birth certificate on the kitchen counter in a folder with health insurance information.

 

Paisley Lenora Mangino, born March 5, 2018, 5 pounds and 12 ounces. Not quite two months yet, then. I grabbed the folder and shoved it under my arm. I found a cellphone on the counter with a cracked screen, but there wasn't a passcode on it. Paisley's birth picture was the background, being held by mom, as proud as can be. "Your mama is gorgeous, angel," I told her as she started to nod off in my arms. I called my phone with her mom's phone; at least I would have her number, and she would have mine. Not that it really made a difference in the current circumstance, but I scribbled a note and hid it under her phone: "I have your baby girl. She's okay. Call me -- Cady Stark" and left my number, just in case.

 

Because if, somehow, they came back, where would they first look? The crib. She's gone. Then to call for help. Pick up the phone, which might be dead -- find the note. 

 

I took Paisley back to my apartment with me, dropped off her diaper bag and medical information, then we walked back to her parents' apartment and I managed to find her infant car seat and a stroller. I grabbed all the formula and bottles they had, all the nursery water, a blanket, and then I locked the door behind me.

 

When I sat down in my apartment again, I realized what had just happened. I'd rescued a baby. What was I going to do now? Safe Haven? I'm sure child protective services all over the country were overrun right now. And she would not be the only baby whose parents disappeared... I shook that thought out of my mind.

 

Paisley. Asleep on my couch next to me. 

 

She farted.

 

_We are doing this_ , I told myself. _This is the right thing to do in this moment._

I didn't want to call Natasha. I'd talked to her twice in the last twelve hours, to bug her now would elicit a "Now what?" response from her. And the baby... that is honestly one of those things that you handle now and tell Natasha later.

 

I texted Pepper. "Can I call you?"

 

She called me right away. "What's up, Cady?"

 

"I rescued a baby."

 

"What?"

 

"I was moving stuff out to my truck, I came back upstairs and I heard a baby crying. I got into the apartment and she's all by herself."

 

"Oh my God."

 

"She's okay, she's asleep on the couch next to me."

 

"Oh my God." Pepper was in shock. "Well, thank God you heard her! I'm sure her parents will be glad..." Her voice trailed off. _If they ever made it back._  

 

I explained to her that I left a note for mom and got all the things that she'd need, and Pepper did try to persuade me to call social services and see what they would recommend doing under these strange circumstances. I mentioned that I wasn't sure how the foster care system would work out with an overload of kids without parents, and foster families whose parents were lost... Eventually, Pepper just went along with me when I told her I was taking Paisley with me when I started driving back to New York in a few days. If something legal came up about it later, I could explain it was under extenuating circumstances and I only intended to help. Good Samaritan.

 

"I'm glad you like babies," Pepper told me. "Because I found something out this morning."

 

"What?"

 

"I'm pregnant."


	3. Apocalyptic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha isn't so sure about Cady's heroic gesture, and Cady and Paisley head east.

I did end up calling social services in Seattle later that day. I called six times, actually, and no one ever answered the phone. I told Pepper when we talked that night so she knew exactly what was going on.

 

I went back to Paisley’s parents’ apartment one last time in search of a playpen or pack and play once I realized I didn’t have a safe space for her to sleep. Thankfully they had one stuck in the closet, still in the box, never used. I took that and the bottle warmer back to my apartment. 

 

Late that afternoon, Paisley and I took a walk down to the church for the 4 PM daily mass. I still heard sirens in the distance. The weather had been exceptionally nice here lately, but it was supposed to turn chilly and wet by evening. Mass was completely normal; the priest made no mention of anything out of the ordinary, but he was always very by the book and kept his homilies short and to the point on weekdays.

 

That night, I took inventory of Paisley’s stuff a little better. I had two cans of Enfamil, two tubs of Similac, and one of each was open. She had six bottles, the bottle warmer, three gallons of water, an entire box of size 2 diapers, three packages of wipes, two blankets, and I organized her clothes. I kept pants, socks, a large handful of onesies and a tiny jacket out, and the rest of her clothes and the diapers that weren’t in her bag went into the 4Runner. Her car seat snapped into her stroller; I kept those upstairs with me for now. Her pack and play stayed in the living room with me, because for some reason I just couldn’t sleep in my bed. I did one last load of laundry, cleaned out the refrigerator, packed up my bedding except for one pillow, and took out the trash at dusk, just as the cold wind started to blow in with drizzling rain. My plan was to go to mass Saturday evening and leave town around 5 Sunday morning. I’d have plenty of daylight to drive in; unfortunately I’d be driving into the sun, if it ever came out with this weather rolling in.

 

The projectile spit up theme was continuing with her, so for her afternoon feedings I tried the Similac instead of Enfamil and she seemed to do a little better. Still spitting up, but not as much.

 

Around 8 that night, Natasha called to check in. I’d been watching the news on my computer when her video call came in. I’d just fed Paisley and was burping her on my shoulder. “Hey.”

 

“What’s that?” she asked suspiciously. 

 

“It’s a baby.”

 

“What.” I immediately recognized that tone of voice: _What the fcuk have you gotten into now, Stark_.

 

“I was moving stuff from my apartment to my truck, I came back upstairs this morning, and I heard crying. I found the apartment it was coming from, I got the key from the landlord’s office — I guess both of them disappeared, the door was still unlocked and no one’s been there all day. She’s almost two months old.“

 

“Whoa, wait,” I heard Rhodey’s voice as he came down the hall. “You found a _baby_?”

 

“She was all by herself. I’ve been watching for someone to come back to the apartment but no one has. I left a note with my number for them to call me. I tried calling social services all day, no one will answer the phone.”

 

“Oh my God.” Natasha put her head in her hands.

 

“Listen, I’m bringing her with me.”

 

“No. You can’t.”

 

“I can’t just leave her. I can’t reach social services. I’m not going to take her to the hospital and leave her under Safe Haven, I’m sure they’re overwhelmed right now and she’s perfectly fine.”

 

“Cady—“

 

“I’m completely capable of taking care of her and I have every intention of reuniting her with her parents once this whole... mess gets sorted out."

 

“You can’t just take a baby.”

 

“Well I have to do something, it’s not like I can just leave her there and hope they come back!”

 

“She’s got a point,” said Rhodey, sitting down next to a very, very exasperated Natasha.

 

“What’s going on?” Steve walked in. In pajamas.

 

“I found a baby.” I sat her wobbly, bobbly-headed self on my lap facing the computer.

 

“Aw, she’s cute,” said Steve. “Do you know her name?”

 

“Paisley. She’s almost two months.”

 

“Hi, Paisley,” he said. She turned her head toward the screen. “Hi, baby.”

 

Natasha dragged her hands down her face in concession. “When are you planning on heading out?”

 

“Sunday morning, first light.”

 

“Rhodey and I have a list of interstates that are blocked and ones that are mostly clear, we’ll email it to you.”

 

“I’ll look at it in a little bit and make some plans. I need to figure out where to stop for the night.” Paisley tried to projectile vomit on the computer. I caught it with my hand. Warm and gross. I couldn’t find a burp rag. My jeans had to do. Had to wash those again.

 

“We’re planning on having a load of supplies shipped in tomorrow, do you need anything for her?”

 

“Uh... burp cloths. Formula. She’s spitting up a lot, I switched to the Similac that was open and she’s doing a little better. It’s the orange lid, it’s called sensitive, I think? Yeah.” I picked up the container and showed it to her.

 

“Okay. Diapers?”

 

“She’s in size 2 and she’s tiny. I’d say 2 and maybe 3. Baby wipes.”

 

“Got it.”

 

“Thank you,” I said. It felt awkward. I knew she was pissed. But... I honestly thought I was doing the right thing.

 

What would my dad say?

 

“Will you let me know when you leave?” Natasha asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“If you have any trouble, let me know, we can be there in two hours or less.”

 

“Okay.”

 

“And take good care of that little malyshka.”

 

I smiled. “I will.”

 

——

 

Saturday was rainy and cold. I figured out what roads to avoid and I planned to stop in North Dakota (South Dakota as an alternate) and again in Ohio if I could. Paisley and I spent most of the day playing and napping, watching Netflix, and making her giggle. Tummy time makes her mad. Her tiny little pacifier is the best thing in the world. Walking around and rocking her is a favorite. We went to mass that evening and I swung by an ATM to get some cash in case infrastructure was down along the way. I packed up the rest of the food I’d eat on the road, put her stroller in the trunk, and we settled in for the night while a storm howled outside. 

 

Pepper and Natasha both texted me asking for pictures of Paisley. Pepper thought she was adorable. Natasha admitted Paisley was growing on her. Steve Rogers was absolutely smitten but would not admit it to anyone. I had no idea how long she’d be a part of our lives. It could be two weeks. It could be forever.

 

I just knew that right now that it was my job to love her.

 

My manager from Starbucks called Saturday around 6 pm and said they would reopen Sunday morning. She offered me first shift. I explained due to the current situation I would be driving back to New York in the morning. She sounded really snarky all of a sudden, said she didn’t realize I was from New York, and hung up on me. Half an hour later she tried to call me back. I didn’t answer.

 

Late that night, Natasha texted me. “Strange wants to know how Paisley is doing.”

 

It took me a full thirty seconds to understand she was talking about a person and not typing something incoherent. “She’s fine as far as I can tell. Peeing and pooping. She doesn’t cry much unless you put her on her tummy.” After I sent it, I had another question. “Why?”

 

“He’s a doctor. Just wanted to make sure everything was okay. He asked if she’s still spitting up a lot.”

 

“Yes. She’s not in distress over it, you just try to burp her and she blaaaahs all over you.”

 

“He wants to know if she spits up less with the Similac.”

 

“It’s still after every feeding but I feel like she’s keeping more down.”

 

“Ok, we’re getting Similac for spit up, he thinks that will help. Watch for any signs of belly pain or not pooping.”

 

“Will do. Don’t tell him I asked this, he’s really a doctor? I’m just curious.”

 

“Yes. Former neurosurgeon.”

 

“Nice.” 

 

“You’ll like him,” she texted back. With a wink.

 

——

 

I set my alarm for Sunday morning at 4:00 AM and Paisley made sure I was up around 3:30. I fixed her a bottle, got my jeans out of the dryer, and made coffee and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The coffee maker, the rest of the food, my pillow, her diaper bag chock full of stuff, and her pack and play went down to the truck first. Then I loaded up my backpack with my computer and phone, my wallet, strapped her into her car seat, and gave the apartment one last look around. I left a couple spices in the cabinet, some ice trays, and my tiny collection of silverware. Not things I would need on the road. I never did buy tableware, just paper plates.

 

I locked the door one last time, dropped the key on the landlord’s desk, and out the door we went. Paisley was babbling and blowing bubbles as I buckled her car seat in. “First big road trip, little bit,” I told her. “Gonna listen to a lot of good music, too.” My backpack rode in the floorboard underneath her car seat and her diaper bag rode shotgun.

 

I set up my phone on the dash, plugged it in, and called Natasha.

 

“ _Dobroye utro_!” she said, entirely too enthusiastic at this hour. Well, it was almost nine in New York, she's probably had several cups of coffee by now. “Hitting the road?”

 

“We are on our way.”

 

“Permission to track your coordinates?”

 

“I figured you would anyway.”

 

“Yeah... I just wanted to be nice and ask before I did." I could just hear the corner of her mouth turn up in that crafty half grin of hers.

 

"Oh, that's considerate of you."

 

"Baby girl is okay?"

 

"Had a bottle at 3:30, she was being all chatty a few minutes ago and I think she's calming down now."

 

"At least she'll sleep a lot. You drive safe."

 

I started my truck, backed out of my parking space, and once I shifted into drive I noticed the 4Runner lurched forward.

 

That was a bit drastic. Maybe my foot wasn’t on the brake hard enough. A fluke, transmission was cold. Not the first time it had done this, but also quite a bit more noticeable than before. Something to keep an eye on, I guess.

 

We hit the interstate and headed east around 4:45. There was very little traffic. Some of the businesses on the outskirts of town looked like they had been looted. Natasha was right; wrecks everywhere. I had hoped for a couple hours of smooth sailing on cruise control but I don’t think I ever went over 55 miles an hour. Every mile and a half I had road debris to dodge; every five or six miles, a wreck blocked one lane or the other.

 

I passed a twelve car pileup just before the Idaho border. I glanced at the windows as I drove past, against my better judgment.

 

Bodies. 

 

People looked like they had fallen asleep. Others were mangled. I saw one at exit 82b in Montana with hands on the wheel and no head.

 

My Lord and my God.

 

Semis still burning. Tankers leaking. A FedEx semi overturned, an RV that had been ripped to shreds.

 

I just kept driving.

 

Occasionally I saw a semi or an old car driving westbound. One black pickup truck came up and passed me shortly after I left Seattle proper, driving like a bat out of hell. The farther away I got from the city, the fewer vehicles with living drivers I saw.

 

Paisley and I stopped when she was hungry, pulling over at a McDonalds in east Washington for a bathroom break, diaper change, a bottle, and food for me. I stuck to the familiar now more than ever. Not going far off the beaten path in this brave new world. Not out here.

 

This time the 4Runner lurched once we got on the interstate and out of second gear. Harder than usual. Definitely a hesitation.

 

_Shit._

 

That was transmission.

 

I tried to keep pace as I drove, staying around 50 when I could and keeping the transmission in fifth gear as long as possible. I didn’t have a manual option to keep it in fifth like I was trailering something, I’d just have to manage it as best I could. The less this baby had to shift the better.

 

It got progressively worse that day. We stopped two more times at rest areas for diaper changes and bottles, and around seven, we pulled into a Holiday Inn in east Montana. I was hoping to get farther, but I wasn’t going to drive too long after dark and Paisley desperately needed to be out of her car seat a while. 

 

I let her wiggle around in the pack and play in just a diaper while I got a shower and then I called Natasha.

 

"How's it look out there?" she asked.

 

"Like hundreds of miles of crime scene."

 

"I figured as much. I saw you weren't getting very far very fast."

 

"No, lots of debris on the road, accidents to get around. Dodgeball."

 

"Pepper knows you're on the way, I talked to her this afternoon."

 

I washed out Paisley's bottles, cleaned up her diaper bag, and bathed her in the sink. Her little bottom was still kind of red, so I covered it in cream before I wiggled her into a onesie. The weather was still chilly and rainy, but our hotel room for the night was cozy. She took one more bottle -- didn't spit up at all this time! -- and then she let me sleep until 4 the next morning. I heard her just starting to cry, picked her up to change her and warm up a bottle, and I heard sirens outside, somewhere on the interstate again.

 

I turned on the television with the volume at a minimum. I almost wished I hadn't turned it on. More of the same; wild theories about what happened, firsthand accounts of what people saw, and the aftermath of the disappearances: businesses abandoned, looters, shootings, crime in some areas. Churches opening their doors.

 

And then a blurb about the Avengers. Maybe they knew something about what happened here. They'd been at the center of other massively strange occurrences, like the invasion of New York. 

 

Well.

 

I got dressed, packed up, loaded up the 4Runner, and took Paisley with me to the lobby of the hotel to grab a quick bite to eat. (Side story: When I was in middle school and starting to spend more time with my dad, we'd take random weekend trips out of town to go explore museums or sometimes he had a meeting for work and I'd tag along. We stayed at a Four Seasons once and I wouldn't eat anything because the food was weird. From then on, Holiday Inn Express was THE place. The breakfast is always the bomb dot com.) Then we checked out and headed east after I texted Natasha and told her we were on the road.

 

The rain was starting to clear out as it moved east faster than I could drive, especially with obstacles. Paisley pooped and we had to stop to change; then she was hungry, and we stopped at a Burger King around lunch. Right before I turned my turn signal on for the exit, I glanced down at the 4Runner's thermostat and I asked myself if the needle was registering a little higher than usual, but I dismissed it. A little variance is normal, and we'd been driving a lot; the engine was bound to be pretty warm.

 

We made it through North Dakota and Minnesota without much trouble. The roads were a little more clear, fewer grisly accident scenes, more passenger traffic. The transmission seemed to be behaving better today, but I was also able to keep a steady pace again, right around 60 and up to 70 once. About fifteen minutes after crossing the Wisconsin state line I noticed that the thermostat was definitely running hot, much hotter than normal, and I pulled over and cut the engine.

 

_Well, this is bad._

I checked on Paisley. She was out cold in her car seat and hadn't noticed a thing. Good.

 

I got out, popped the hood, and tried to figure out what my dad would look for. Betsy had never overheated before. What makes a car overheat? Lack of coolant. I looked under the engine bay; no leaks. No leaks behind me, either. Don't open the radiator cap, it's hot and under pressure. Coolant circulates in a closed system in the engine to take away heat and gets pushed through the radiator to exchange it with the air that passes around the radiator. Again, no leaks. Coolant level looked fine in the overflow reservoir. Too much coolant damages a head gasket; too little coolant and the engine overheating will ruin a head gasket too. That's why a thermostat is important in an engine, to keep it between the two extremes.

 

But the _water pump_ circulates the coolant.

 

If the water pump had seized up, or was starting to...  I couldn't reach down and see if the pulley was still moving freely, and I wasn't really in a position to crawl under the engine bay and tinker with it. Besides, the water pump is turned by the timing chain, and that's definitely not something I can get to out here on the side of the road in Wisconsin.

 

So I sat in my truck with the doors locked and the hood up for half an hour and let it cool down. Paisley sighed in her sleep and it was the sweetest, most precious little sound.

 

Then I started the engine again. I turned the radio off.

 

I heard it. Chirping. _Chirp chirp chirp chirp._  No check engine light, no oil light, gauges were normal. Not a rod knocking. I just had the oil changed when I got to Seattle, and I checked the oil Saturday afternoon. I got out of the truck and listened at the front of the hood; the chirping was even louder. It was not there this morning.

 

I cut the engine again, got back out, and I used the flashlight on my phone to look at the serpentine belt. Nothing attached to this belt would cause my truck to overheat. That was a coolant issue, and that chirping was the water pump.

 

I had two options: Drive until the water pump dies and risk blowing the head gasket, or call Natasha.

 

I am stuck on the side of the road in Wisconsin, of all places, after the apocalypse.

 

_Shit_.

 

I did not want to make this phone call.

 

"What's up?" Natasha was entirely too cheerful.

 

"My truck's overheating and I'm ninety percent sure it's the water pump going out."

 

"Oh, you're _kidding_."

 

"I'm in Wisconsin. _"_

"I know. God, how many miles do you _have_ on that thing?"

 

"A hundred and seventy three thousand."

 

"I don't know why Tony let you drive it cross country."

 

"This is really the first problem I've had with it." I didn't mention the transmission slipping. I'd handle that on my own.

 

"Alright," she sighed. "We're on our way. Hang tight." I heard her walking. "Rhodes, we're flying."

 

\--

 

Paisley woke up and fussed a little while we waited. I changed her, mixed her a lukewarm bottle, burped her, and got spit up all down the back of my shirt. I went ahead and cleaned up the front seat and her diaper bag again. The poop smell was real; I was running out of plastic bags for dirty diapers and I rolled the windows down to abate the smell some.

 

Eerie silence. One car driving westbound. A UPS truck. A semi. One car going eastbound, white smoke coming out the exhaust. They wouldn't get too far with that.

 

I heard a train horn somewhere well off in the distance. I noticed I didn't hear much else. The silence was similar to the ethereal quiet that blanketed the sky the evening after 9/11 happened and all domestic flights were grounded, like the absence of noise when your refrigerator stops running. An unsettling quiet.

 

Then I heard it. Jet engines.

 

The Quinjet.

 

I got out of the truck and looked up, wondering for a second if maybe they missed me as they flew west past me. I was not the only disabled vehicle out here, there was no doubt... and then they doubled back and dropped altitude. I got back in the 4Runner and put the windows up in a hurry right before the jet landed about an eighth of a mile ahead on the flat eastbound lanes of I-90.

 

Anyone coming up behind me was in for a real surprise right now.

 

"There's our ride, Pais," I told her as I started the engine. The chirping was even louder, but less than a quarter of a mile was a distance I knew I could make, even with a sick water pump. I put it in drive, lightly touched the accelerator, up to ten miles an hour. Someone lowered the cargo bay.

 

And then it seized completely. The engine died. Pistons shuddered to a halt as the bearing locked up.

 

"Oh, you have _got_  to be _kidding me now!_ " I threw the shift into neutral and got out. Natasha saw me and waved someone out to help her.  Rhodey and Rogers came with her.

 

"It literally just seized up on me," I hollered to them as they jogged over. The jet engines were still powering down.

 

"I see that," said Natasha. I went around the back to help the guys push my poor truck the remaining two hundred feet to the jet.

 

"No way am I letting a lady push her own car," Steve said. "You get in and steer."

 

"You've got this in neutral, right, Cades?" Rhodey called from the back of the truck.

 

"Let's go, boys, we're holding up traffic," said Natasha. In my rearview mirror, I saw a very, very confused Honda Civic with a passenger taking a picture out the window with their phone as they slowly inched to a halt.

 

Once we were loaded, Rhodes and Rogers strapped down my truck to the cargo hold at the axles and I got out and unloaded Paisley's car seat and diaper bag. Baby girl slept through the whole thing.

 

"Oh my God she's even cuter than the pictures," Natasha gushed with a big smile as we walked to the cockpit. "You're right, she _is_ tiny."

 

"She actually made it through a feeding without spitting up last night."

 

"What! That's great. I can't wait to hold her."

 

"Natasha, I thought you didn't like kids," Steve teased.

 

"Oh, shut up, Rogers."

 

 


	4. Breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cady Stark makes it to New York, one way or the other, and meets someone who can read her like a book...

I followed Natasha and Rhodey up to the front of the jet. The passenger seats just rear of the cockpit had harnesses, but one out of four had a lap belt and I was able to secure Paisley's car seat in it. "You look like you know what you're doing," said Rhodey as he closed the cargo hold from the main bay.

 

"I do."

 

"She's the car seat queen," Natasha told him over her shoulder as she strapped in and pulled a headset on. "Of course she does."

 

Steve sat on the right side of Paisley while I strapped myself in on the left and tucked her diaper bag under my seat. I heard the jet engines ramping up. "That little Honda is probably freaking out right about now," I said. Steve laughed and shook his head.

 

I'd flown in planes before, but I've never been on an outfit like this. It was a lot louder than I expected, probably like a military jet. My ears popped as we gained altitude. Once I felt gravity level out a little bit, Natasha turned to look at me. "How about we stop in Iowa for a few minutes and pick up a friend?"

 

"Who's that?"

 

"Clint. Before he gets himself in trouble."

 

\--

 

Clint threw a duffel bag up the ladder and then climbed up into the cargo hold. 

 

"Hi stranger," said Natasha. She stood up and met him halfway, giving him a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Glad you decided to join us."

 

"Thanks for the invitation. Hey kiddo," Clint said, reaching out for the awkward high five/handshake we always did. "What happened to your truck?"

 

"Water pump seized up, I think. Started running hot."

 

"Yikes. _No bueno_." He peered over the canopy of the car seat. "Who's this?" he asked curiously.

 

"The six week old that lived down the hall from me in Seattle. Her parents disappeared."

 

"Oh, man. So you heard her crying and..."

 

"Yeah." I nodded.

 

Clint sat down next to me. I watched Paisley start to fuss a little and wake up, then I felt a hand on my left shoulder. I looked over to Clint.

 

"Good for you, kid."

 

I'm not sure, but I may have actually smiled.

 

\--

 

An hour and a half later we landed at the Avengers compound on the Hudson. I suggested unloading my truck first before moving it, seeing as we’d have to push it a good thousand feet over to the mechanical plant to get it up on a lift, and I swear we had the 4Runner unloaded in ten minutes tops. I had just gotten Paisley settled down in the pack and play in the conference room when I went out to help the guys move my truck only to find out they’d already moved it for me. I promised I’d make them dinner soon for going out of their way to help. It might be pizza or a copycat salad from Wendy's but I'd make it.

 

I sat down at the table in the conference room on the ground floor. The news was on television but the sound was off. Natasha picked up Paisley and talked to her. Clint, Rhodey, and Steve were talking in the kitchen. My phone buzzed as Pepper texted me: “Are you in New York yet?” 

 

I felt my heart at the base of my throat. I took my glasses off and rested my head on the table. 

 

“Hey.” Natasha pulled a chair up with her foot and sat next to me. “You okay?”

 

“Overwhelmed,” I told her.

 

With a tap on the table she turned off the television screen. She dictated a response to Pepper, then I felt her hand on my back. “You have every reason to be.”

 

Natasha never left me while I tried to calm down. Clint came in a few minutes later with glasses of water and sat them on the table. “Is she alright?” he asked Natasha quietly. 

 

“Can you go grab that blanket of hers, the purple one?” she replied in equal measure. 

 

“Yeah, hang on.” He sounded a little confused. When he returned, Natasha helped him lay it across my back. I realized Natasha had put her head down on the table like I had and she was just quietly watching me. Clint held Paisley and I heard him talking to her, his voice all gentle and calm.

 

“Thank you,” I told them both. 

 

“Take a few minutes,” said Natasha. I felt her hand on my back. “You’re okay.”

 

She sat with me while I warded off a panic attack and worked on comprehending the status quo. I closed my eyes and I felt her begin to slowly stroke my hair. 

 

“I see you,” she murmured to me at length.

 

Those words between us go way back.

 

—

 

It was already after five and the bleary golden sun was beginning to sink toward the horizon. I couldn't sit still any longer even though I felt physically sick to my stomach and I hadn't eaten since breakfast, but I wasn't the least bit hungry. I wandered aimlessly for about five minutes, just trying to remember this place I was in.

 

My whole world was upside down right now and I was just beginning to feel that sink in. I was not a fan.

 

I moved things around in the room next to Natasha's where the guys had hauled all my stuff. Paisley's things in one corner, my boxes of books stacked against a wall. I threw my pillows on the bed. I tried to put clothes in the closet but my hands were shaking too badly to get anything on hangers or in drawers. I started to organize Paisley's clothes on the bed and picked out a onesie for pajamas for her when I heard Natasha at the door. "Hey," was all she said, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. Why is the light off?"

 

"I... don't know." I honestly wasn't sure. It wasn't pitch dark, but the curtains blocked out a good bit of light, given that the entire east wall was glass. "It... didn't seem necessary at the time." Sensory overload? I don't know. I just didn't want the light on.

 

"Okay. Stephen just got here and Pepper should be here in about an hour."

 

"Oh, alright." I started folding onesies and stacking them by size.

 

"He wants to see you," Natasha said after a pause in which she watched me.

 

"Why?" I felt uneasy. Everything made me feel uneasy right now.

 

"He wants to meet you, first of all," she said, waving me to follow her. I sighed and trailed behind her down the hall, back to the conference room. I wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and have at least two hours to imagine that none of this had ever happened -- none of it, not even moving to Seattle, that I had never left New York and I was still living at home with my dad, getting home from work, making dinner, reading a book. Doing laundry. Just two hours to close my eyes and take a nap, and maybe when I woke up, everything would be back to normal.

 

Clint was sitting with Strange at the conference table, Paisley lying on a blanket on the table, wiggling a little. I sat on his other side. He'd brought a canvas tote bag with him and had just put his stethoscope around his neck; he peered in Paisley's tiny ears now. I reached out to stroke her one little wisp of hair. I noticed his hands were shaky, but only a little, and scarred. "Hi, baby," I said to her in that sing song voice I used to talk to the infants at daycare. The words just came out before I even thought about them.

 

Stephen smiled -- at me. "Well, she's in good health, as far as I can tell. She's still eating well, normal bowel movements...?"

 

"She eats every three hours almost exactly, poops, pees. Still spitting up some but it's not as bad," I said.

 

"We're switching to the new formula tonight, shipment just came in about an hour ago," Natasha said. 

 

"Good. Hopefully that will help. She's not fussy or gassy, does she seem generally happy...?" 

 

"She sleeps a lot, but she's six weeks old, so. She seems like a pretty happy baby to me," I told him. Stephen wrapped the blanket around Paisley and then, cradling her in his arms, transferred her to mine with the delicate touch of handling a porcelain doll. Natasha asked him some questions about her and it took me a full minute to realize that I'd started rocking back and forth with Paisley, watching her slowly blink at me. I heard both of them talking  but none of their words registered at all.

 

Clint wandered off at some point in the conversation. Natasha came up behind me and reached for Paisley. "Come see Aunt Tasha," she cooed. "Let's go see what Clint is trying to cook for dinner."

 

As I transferred Paisley to Natasha, the doctor's deep voice addressed me. "And how are _you_ , Miss Stark?" Stephen asked.

 

I heard my name, which startled me, and I saw his blue eyes watching me. So many thoughts raced through my head in a split second -- _That voice is incredible -- He really is quite handsome -- he REALLY is -- Paisley -- do I need to ask any questions about her? Why is he here --_

"What?" I blurted out unceremoniously. My brain had literally just caught up with what he said, and as he was about to repeat himself, "Oh -- um -- I -- I don't know." I must have blinked a thousand times in five seconds and I moved one of my hands like I was throwing a handful of shredded cheese onto a pizza. "I -- I really don't know."

 

He shifted in his chair, pushed away from the table a little, leaning his chin on his hand and his elbow on the desk. Listening. Watching. "Okay," was all he said. It sounded like he was waiting for me to continue. 

 

And he was. 

 

These chairs were on wheels and rotated, and I wiggled it from side to side with my foot. I shrugged. "I don't know. My-my words aren't working. I-I-I am a mess right now." I sighed and put my hands to my forehead. "My brain is just..." I expanded them in front of me, like an explosion. "Signal to noise, but it's all signal and I can't... narrow it... Everything is noise. Everything is noise. Everything is signal and everything is noise." I waved my hands back and forth in front of me, trying to shake off some of the static I felt.

 

"You're autistic," he said.

 

I'd closed my eyes, but at his words I opened them again, although I didn't look directly at him. "You're stimming," he mentioned as an explanation for his reasoning. "And... you don't make eye contact."

 

I nodded. That was about right.

 

"And your entire world, Cady, has just been upended. Every routine and everything predictable that you probably need -- that you expect -- has changed. You have no idea what's going to happen next, and not just in the next day or week but the next few minutes and hours."

 

"And I saw things as I was driving back -- the cars, the wrecks, there were bodies -- and then my truck broke down, and -- " I felt tears threatening and I squeezed my eyes shut. "How do you know this?" I tried to ask, but it came out as more of a scratchy whisper. I'd steepled my hands in front of my forehead.

 

He moved his chair a little bit closer, but not too much, not too close, and he kept his voice low, almost matching mine. "I'm a neurologist. I'm not a specialist on autism, but I know it when I see it."

 

_And this is important and it's the first thing he clues in on,_  I observed silently. I didn't understand why.

 

I felt myself breaking down, the noise chipping away at me. The doctor was exactly right. I noticed a hand, palm facing up, on the table next to me. His hand. 

 

"Let us be here for you, Cady," he said. "It's okay if your struggle looks different than ours. Just because it's different doesn't mean it's any less significant."

 

I thought about his words for a moment, then I rested my hand in his. His hand was warm and soft and it felt good that he was holding mine, like an anchor. He rubbed the back of my hand with his thumb. 

 

I put my head down on the table, facing him, and he scooted a little closer and leaned his head toward the table too. "Who knows you're autistic, Cady?" he asked.

 

"My dad. Natasha. Clint. My friend Skye, she's autistic too."

 

"Where is she, is she okay?"

 

"Yes, she's okay and so is her little girl. They're in Brooklyn."

 

"Okay. Good. Who are you closest to who's here right now?"

 

"Natasha."

 

"Stay close to her. You know what your sensory needs are, what helps you feel safe?" I nodded. "Does Natasha?"

"I think so."

 

"Okay. You deal with a lot of anxiety?"

 

"God, yes."

 

"Alright. Listen to me carefully. Okay?" I nodded. "Meet your sensory needs. Whether it's tactile or auditory or vestibular, whatever it is -- work on meeting those. Stim if you want to, it's fine."

 

"I know."

 

"But that should help with the anxiety and the noise that you hear." He moved his hand, reaching to tuck my hair behind my ear. I saw him smile, and he did it again, and a third time. 

 

Something like gold glitter ran through my nerves, warm and sunny, and Stephen's smile turned into a grin. "Do you want me to come check on you tomorrow, Cady?" he asked quietly.

 

I nodded. I didn't know until later that I was smiling like a fool. _But why?!_

"Okay." His smile was warm like sunshine. "I will."

 

As he stood and put his stethoscope back in his bag, I sat up, shaking my head, trying to get my bearings. Pepper would be here soon. I reached behind me to scratch an itch on my back. "But I have a question."

 

"What's that?"

 

"What do I call you?"

 

"Stephen."

 

"With a V or a P?"

 

"P. Why?"

 

"I just want to know how you spell it."

 

"And you're Cady," he mentioned. "Just Cady or is that short for...?"

 

"Cadence," I said.

 

Stephen repeated it. "Cadence." He listened to the sound of it. "That's beautiful."

 

"Thank you." I felt my cheeks and ears turn red. 

 

"You take good care of yourself for me tonight, Cadence," Stephen said, resting a hand on my shoulder. I reached up to touch his hand without thinking, and his smile then had a meaning to it I couldn't decipher, something sweet. "I'll see you tomorrow."

 

I heard Natasha and Clint talking in the kitchen and Pepper's voice mingled with theirs, and as Stephen left, I went to see what was going on.

 

I could still feel his hand on my shoulder.

 


	5. Debriefing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha brings Clint, Pepper, and Cady up to speed. Pepper brings goodies. There is food.

 

I heard water running in the kitchen as I turned the corner.

 

"Oh my _goodness_ ," said Pepper. She put down her bags, all four? of them? -- and held out her arms as Natasha handed Paisley to her. "Look at you, you are so _precious_! Hey Cady! Oh my God, it is so good to see you," she added, and we kind of awkwardly group hugged. Paisley was definitely the center of attention, though. "Wow, she's tiny."

 

"Strange thinks she may have been a preemie," said Natasha, cracking a handful of pasta over a pot on the stove. "She's a little smaller than she should be for her age."

 

"You've got your hands full," Pepper advised me.

 

I sighed. "Oh, I know."

 

"Speaking of," she said, handing Paisley back to me, "I picked up a couple things for you." She picked one bag up and put it on the counter. Diapers, wipes, Desitin, a couple outfits, socks, and then another bag with some toys and one of those mats with toys that hang down from bars suspended over the mat, all pink and black and white with colorful bugs printed on it. I realized I hadn't grabbed any toys for Paisley at all -- I didn't remember seeing any, to be honest. "And one of the moms I talked to at the office said you would definitely need one of these." She moved a much larger bag out from behind her.

 

"A swing! Oh my gosh, you are amazing."

 

"It's supposed to be a gliding swing, I think? And the seat comes off and turns into a tiny rocking seat for her."

 

"You literally have no idea how excited I am to set that up."

 

"Well, I know how much you like to put things together, so... maybe I have an idea." Pepper kissed my forehead, then she looked at me like the mom she truly is to me. "You sure you're up for this, Cady?" she asked me quietly.

 

"I can handle twelve two year olds by myself," I said. "One six week old... this is gonna be just fine."

 

"The thing is," said Clint, taking some chicken out of the convection oven, "we don't know how long this is going to last. How long before someone fixes this..... this..." He searched for the words with an oven mitt. "This." He settled on that.

 

"How?" Natasha said, looking his way. "Thanos has all the stones." She wasn't looking for an argument, and the tired tone in her voice made Clint very aware that she wasn't about to get into one with him. She was just stating the facts now, and went back to stirring pasta. Pepper moved the bags of baby things into my room down the hall, not quite out of earshot.

 

"How do we get them back?"

 

"I don't know where he is," Natasha said.

 

"Who does? Strange?"

 

"I'm not sure."

 

"You didn't think to ask him?" There was an edge in his voice.

 

"Not really," Natasha conceded.

 

Clint sighed, cutting up chicken on a cutting board. "Okay."

 

"It was... it was bad," Natasha told him honestly. Pepper came back, started rummaging through the refrigerator, and put together a bowl of salad while Natasha told us about the battle in Wakanda. "Because... by the time he made it to us, he had the time stone."

 

"Wait, I thought you said Strange had the time stone."

 

"He did. He had to choose between Tony's life and the stone." I heard Pepper stop moving. "And he said he gave up the stone to save his life."

 

"So Tony is still alive," said Pepper. Her heart must have been in her throat, I could hear it.

 

"As far as we know, yes," Natasha said.

 

"I'm of the opinion that no news from him is good news," I added.

 

"Well," said Pepper, bringing a bowl to the table, visibly shaken. "Your track record on that is still a hundred percent, Cady, so I'm going to hold onto that."

 

"I just have a feeling," I told her.

 

"You tend to be good with those too."

 

"What, like she's psychic?" Clint said sarcastically.

 

"Yes," said Natasha and Pepper simultaneously.

 

I blinked. I didn't think my gut instincts and hunches had this much clout, but apparently I missed a memo or two on that.

 

"Anyway," Natasha continued, "with the time stone, when Thanos arrived... all he needed was the mind stone, and of course, Vision had that."

 

"What happened?" he asked.

 

Natasha looked up at me, turning the stove off. "Cady, you okay?" she asked pointedly.

 

I can't read expressions well, but Natasha makes a serious effort with me. _Are you sure you can handle me telling this story right now? It might upset you._

 

I nodded.

 

"Vision tried to convince Wanda to destroy the stone," she said. "They'd been trying to remove it, it wasn't working, we're down to the wire and she finally tries to."

 

"But if she destroyed the stone that would have killed -- destroyed -- Vision."

 

"Uh huh. And it worked." My heart dropped in my chest. Natasha glanced at me, then back to draining pasta. "But Thanos had the time stone... he turned time back..."

 

"Oh, you've got to be shitting me," said Clint.

 

"Brought Vision back -- "

 

"No."

 

"And pried the stone out."

 

"Oh my God."

 

"Which caused Vision's demise -- again -- in front of Wanda."

 

Clint just stopped and put his head in his hands. I sank down into a chair at the table. Paisley was asleep in my arms.

 

Vision.

 

I literally grew up with JARVIS. I learned my alphabet and letters, how to play checkers, how to do fractions, telling time, everything -- with JARVIS. When Vision was... created, born, whatever the politically correct term is, as strange as this may sound, he brought JARVIS to life. I called him JARVIS for about two weeks straight until I got used to his new-to-me name. It was honestly like JARVIS had never left, and now he was... strangely huggable. Vision became family, Wanda immediately became family, and I had been planning a trip to Europe this summer to spend two weeks with them.

 

I guess not now.

 

"And Wanda?" Clint asked.

 

"Gone," said Natasha. "With the snap."

 

"Is that what we're calling it?"

 

"I don't know what else to call it. He literally snapped his fingers and turned people to dust."

 

"I don't think I saw that part. I was looking for something, I turned back around... everyone was gone. Lila, Nathan, Laura." Natasha took the chicken from him and tossed it with the noodles; he warmed up alfredo sauce on the stove. "God, I am so sorry I wasn't there to help."

 

"Don't be," Natasha said. "I honestly don't think there was anything you could have done. Everyone who went at him had little to no chance. Strange went after him, Tony did, Peter --"

 

"Oh my God, Peter got involved in this?"

 

"Yeah, he hitched a ride on the ship."

 

"Where's he at?"

 

"Also gone in the snap."

 

" _Christ_."

 

Pepper brought plates out. Stir crazy as I was, I got up and got four glasses out of the cabinet. "So -- and I hate to bring this up -- I have to ask," said Clint. "But did Strange say why specifically he gave up the stone, was it just for Tony? Because if keeping the time stone would have prevented this all from happening -- and Pepper, please forgive me --"

 

"No, no harm done, Clint, really..."

 

"Well you know Strange is a, um... shoot, he mentioned it to me," she snapped her fingers. "Master of the mystic arts? Sorcerer type of... I'm not sure. Anyway, he was apparently trained in using the time stone and prior to the fight with Thanos, he used it to see into the future and determine how things would play out. And, according to him, out of some fourteen odd million outcomes, in one of those, we win."

 

Pepper stared at Natasha with the skeptical look of someone who'd never read about Harry Potter and was suddenly being told that Hogwarts was an actual school. In retrospect, this analogy is... not that far off the mark. I could literally hear the gears turning in her head as she thought to herself, _He's... a.... wizard....?_

 

"Apparently that was the one in which he had to give Thanos the stone in exchange for Tony's life."

 

Tesseracts, time stones, and some alien named Thanos. Aliens. The invasion of New York while I was still in high school. Wait, the tesseract had a stone in it, didn't it? If that stone was connected to this current problem, then how much of that other problem is connected to this _current problem of_  -- 

 

"So it comes back to the stones," said Clint. "Thanos has them and we don't. Hell, he could just snap his fingers and wipe us out too."

 

"What makes him think he's God?" I said before my brain could process the words.

 

Natasha raised her eyebrows in thought. Pepper and Natasha brought serving dishes to the table; Natasha sat down next to me, Pepper and Clint across from us. "You know, that's a really good question, Cady."

 

"Obviously the stones do," Pepper stated, dishing out salad on my plate and hers. I still snuggled a snoring Paisley; I could eat one handed, I'd done it before.

 

"Without them, he's powerless," I thought out loud. "Right?" Natasha shrugged, half nodded, honestly not sure. "So, he's not a god. I mean, let's take the example of Thor as the criteria for god status. Like, inherent ability to do stuff without outside influence." I caught myself. "Am I really having this conversation?"

 

"Believe it or not," said Clint.

 

"So what makes these stones _work?"_  I asked.

 

"Billion dollar question, right there," Natasha said.

 

" _Multi_  billion dollar question," Pepper added.

 

"At one point, the tesseract -- wasn't it being studied as an energy source, it threw off so much gamma radiation, and... but Vision's stone didn't, or did it? I wonder what Strange -- Stephen -- knows about the stones -- What gives them the -- ability to manipulate -- the -- the -- surely this has got to be on a molecular level, but like a shockwave type of propagation of energy, like the p-waves of an earthquake -- on a global scale -- "

 

"No pressure, Cady," said Clint. He shared a smile with Pepper. "No pressure."


End file.
